Current debate cites the need for a small car in the Saab range. Lance Cole comments on what happened last time they tried it.
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In these days of shining chrome and prestige branding, many people forget that Saab’s first car was not some luxo-barge for bloated plutocrats, nor was it an executive saloon for aspirant middle class corporate boys.
Oh no, that first Saab was a small car- a car for the masses; a car that was both basic and intelligent – so intelligent that in its derivative forms it was on sale from 1950 to 1980 as the Saab 92-96 ranges. And it was a leading edge tool with front drive, safety, tuned aerodynamics, iconic industrial design and huge ability that lasted decades – as only good design can.
Only the original Mini, the 2CV, and the VW Beetle can boast similar production runs.
Now, Saab’s lack of a small car that reflects its true beginnings truly shows. If Saab had a small car, it would be earning money. But it does not and people buy those horrid Korean things.
The same was true way a back in the mists of the 1980s when Saab, so desperate for that ‘entry-level’ model – the smaller, cheaper car, created one. And they did it without lifting a finger in design terms.
In 1984, Saab did what no other car maker has ever done in order to create a new model. Saab took two cars from its range, sawed them in half and built a ‘cut and shut’ special that was a weird and only slightly wonderful attempt at a stop-gap car in its model range.
Let’s just repeat that – a major car manufacturer took the front and back of two different cars and welded them up into a new model!
The exclamation mark is justified – think about it, this car was almost 20 years old when it was born.
The car was called the ‘90’ and somehow, it worked – but it was no real answer and it reflected a cash–strapped myopia that was, and remains typical of Saab – perhaps through no-fault of its own…
The Saab 90 was the front of the old Saab 99 2 door, conjoined with the back of the longer, newer, Saab 900. The result was a long tailed thing that had the Sason and Envall short–nosed 99 front and curved windscreen slot, with a long Envall designed 900 tail stuck out the back.
It looked odd. And the boot/trunk was huge. You could live in there and fold the seats flat and sleep in it – all with no hatchback.
Saab gave the 90 twin-tube sports dampers, shorter gear ratios and automatic fuel cut-off, oh and 900 style badging – minus the last zero – so they did not even have to tool up for new logos.
Inside it was pure 1970s Saab 99 – and yet they bothered to change the rake of the 99s steering rack so that the steering wheel was 4 degrees steeper – like the 900s. Well, almost like a 900. It still lacked power steering.
There was a bigger 13.9 gallon fuel tank (400 miles range) – a good thing as this old, heavy gauge car only just scraped home to 30mpg. Zero to sixty mph took a lethargic 11 seconds and the mid-range overtaking performance was near the bottom of the class. Remember this was the Saab 1985cc engine without the turbo and tuned for economy – almost.
But there was plenty of torque and you could make the old beast punt along quite nicely on sweeping cross country roads. The gearbox whined, though, even on new ones and especially on the motorway. Still, this was a 100bhp (DIN) car. Mind you, no one rallyed a 90 – did they?
Saab did nothing with the 99 and the 900s’ old bug bear- the gearbox, and the handling remained slow geared in steering terms. But it was not bad for a chassis that was two decades old, a fine testament to Saabs original work and the simple rightness of double wishbone suspension (long before Honda spend millions advertising their use of it, too).
The headlining still dropped – even though Saab had 20 years knowledge across two car ranges about it before they stuck it into the 90. There was still a horrid fake wood veneer plastic strip across the 99 derived dashboard and the windscreen was not deepened as it had been for the 900 – so it was like sitting in a deep Victorian bath tub looking out through a visor: lovely.
Saab bunged the door mirrors, seats, rubbing strips, and various other bits of 900 kit into the 90. One non-900 delight was a choke lever – a manual choke, big enough to be pulled by a gloved Swedish hand. There was five speed manual (only) gearbox and a top speed of about 100mph. Disc brakes all round hauled the 90 to sharp stop – even if the pedals were so offset you might press the wrong one at first acquaintance.
I drove a white Saab 90 for a few months. It whined and chugged, yet had great character. Ultimately, though, it was neither fish nor fowl and in marketing terms was, even to my Saab devoted mind, an oddity. But for Saab owners who did not want the prestige of the 900 – even the base model – and wanted to move from an old 96 or old 99 into a new small Saab, the 90 was a very easy way to do it, though some might have perceived it as a con.
The car was rigid, crash safe, reliable, and characterful. But that was not enough and was never going to be – how on earth could a car maker survive by creating a new small ‘bread and butter’ model by welding two other models together for goodness sake?
It was a mad, mad, thing and we knew it at the time, which was why after under 3 years on the UK market, the 90 died. Just before it died, though, the Finns had something special in mind: the Lumikko (translated: “Snow Weasel”). Saab 90 enthusiasts now had their very own limited edition to fawn over. And limited it was, too, with only 10 examples made.
The fact remains, though, that people bought the 90. In total, 25,378 Saab 90s were made. It was sold in selected European countries only and the Swedes and the Dutch loved them. They are getting rare now and the eccentric Saabist in me rather fancies one.
However, I would rather Saab offered you and me a re-skinned Vauxhall/Opel Corsa with the revised body design (that I happen to have on my drawing board), as the new small Saab. It would be so easy- not a single internal tooling changed- just the outer skins and the interior, and bingo a new small Saab is with us: Unless Saab were to weld the back of a Astra to the front of an Insignia and fit a 1.2 engine.
But no one would ever weld two different models together to make a new car though, would they…
Lance Cole © 2008.
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Lance Cole is a writer living in England and has penned several books on automobiles and aviation. Saab enthusiasts would know him best for the book Saab 99 and 900: The Complete Story, which is an excellent volume and available for sale at the TS Shop. At the bottom of the left sidebar you’ll see a list of authors here at TS. Click Lance’s name to read all of his contributed pieces.
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A couple of images accompanying this piece were sourced from www.saab-90.com. I think the site’s reasonably old now, but for those interested in learning more about the 90, it’s a great resource with photos, brochures and other stuff.
SW
